Shawn's First Case
by Collegekid2006
Summary: When 12 Year Old Shawn's bike is stolen, he and Young Gus go all over the neighborhood looking for it...and, of course, find more trouble than they bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

"Dad! Dad!"

Shawn burst into the house, frantic and out of breath.

"Dad! Emergency!"

Henry ran out of the kitchen, expecting blood or severed limbs.

Instead, all he saw was one pissed-off twelve year old.

"What's the problem, Shawn?" He asked, his pulse slowing back to normal.

"Get your badge! Get your cuffs! Get your gun! Come on!" Shawn yelled, yanking his father's arm, doing his best to drag him out the door. Henry didn't budge.

"Why do I need my gun? Did Gus beat you at Scrabble again? I told you before, Kid. Shawntastic isn't a word."

"No! It's even worse than that! My bike is gone! Someone stole my bike!"

Shawn's cheeks were flushed with rage. Henry raised his eyebrows.

"Oh? Did you lock it up?"

Shawn hesitated, then glanced at his sneakers.

"Of course!" He insisted.

"Shawn."

"What?"

Henry sighed and sat on the couch. He patted the seat next to him. Shawn rolled his eyes, but reluctantly plopped down next to his father.

"One way to know when someone is lying is that they won't make eye-contact. It's an old police trick. So, let's try this again. Did you lock up your bike like I told you to?"

"No," Shawn mumbled.

"Then whose fault is it it's gone?"

"The parents who raised a son who doesn't listen when they tell him to lock up his stuff?" Shawn replied hopefully.

"Try again."

"Mine."

"Bingo."

Shawn stood up angrily.

"But, Dad! Someone stole it! That's a crime!"

"Yes, it is. So, why are you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Police Academy, day 1, Shawn. The longer you wait to pursue a crook, the colder the trail gets. If you want your bike back, I suggest you stop whining and start using some of those scatterbrains. Your teachers keep insisting you're bright. Now's the time to prove it."

"You want me to get it back? By myself?" Shawn asked disbelievingly.

"You have to grow up sometime. This is as good a time as any to start."

"If I find the guy, can I shoot him?"

"No."

"Arrest him?"

"No."

"Punch him?"

"Only if you can run faster than he can."

"Okay," Shawn agreed, heading out the door. "I'm gonna get my bike back!"

His first stop was Gus' house.

Gus was up in his tree house, happily reading his Superman comic books.

"Hey, Gus!" Shawn greeted, poking his head in the door.

"Hey, Shawn."

Gus scooched over to make room without even glancing up from his comics.

"Whatcha doing?" Shawn asked.

"Reading."

"Oh…wanna solve a crime?"

"Nope."

Gus turned the page, still not even looking at Shawn.

"Come on, Gus! Someone stole my bike. I have to get it back!"

Gus finally glanced up.

"Did you lock it up?" He asked.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"You shoulda locked it up," Gus shook his head.

"Gus!"

"I'm reading! This is good one."

"I can tell you what happens! Lex Luthor gets some Kryptonite and tries to kill Superman, but Superman gets away at the last minute."

Gus threw the book down angrily.

"Shawn! I've been waiting to read that for a month! When did you even read it?"

"I didn't. Gus, that's what always happens. Come on! Help me find my bike!"

"No."

"I'll give you my Trapper Keeper."

Gus suddenly looked interested.

"The Incredible Hulk one?"

"Fine."

"Okay."

Shawn grinned and started back down the rope ladder. Gus followed.

"But I'm not doing anything stupid or crazy, Shawn. Okay?"

"Gus, it's me." Shawn sounded offended. "I would never ask you to do anything crazy or stupid."


	2. Chapter 2

"So, what do we do first?" Gus asked as they arrived back at Shawn's house.

"Look for clues, of course."

"Oh. What kind of clues?"

"I dunno."

Shawn gestured to the driveway.

"That's where my bike was. I guess we start by looking over there."

"Okay."

Gus followed Shawn to the scene of the crime. They stared down at the empty ground blankly, neither quite sure exactly what they were supposed to be seeing.

"Oh!" Gus exclaimed suddenly, stooping down and grabbing a rock.

"Is this a clue?" He asked, handing it to Shawn.

"No, Gus. That's a rock," Shawn sighed, tossing it aside carelessly.

"A rock can be a clue!" Gus insisted.

"Only if it has the bike thief's name written on it."

"Then you find something," Gus huffed, crossing his arms. "If you're so smart."

"I will."

"Fine!"

Gus started to storm away, angrily kicking a Snickers wrapper as he left.

"Gus! Hold it!" Shawn cried, grabbing the litter. "You're a genius!"

"I am?"

Gus slowly turned back. Shawn was brandishing the wrapper, smiling victoriously.

"You found our first clue!"

"What? Trash?"

"Not just trash! Snickers!"

"What's the big deal? Everyone eats Snickers."

"Of course. They're delicious! But look at how the wrapper was opened. Most people just rip them apart, but this one was snipped on the end. Carefully snipped, just enough to get the candy out. See? Only one person I know opens a candy bar like that."

"Who?"

"Rat-face Jimmy!"

Gus grew pale at the name. (At least, Shawn thought he grew pale…it was a bit hard to know for sure…)

"Not Jimmy Banks!" He gasped in terror.

"Do you know another Rat-face Jimmy?" Shawn demanded shortly.

"Don't call him that."

"Why? Because it's mean?"

"No. Because last time you called him Rat-Face Jimmy, he punched you and almost broke your nose. And I don't need a broken nose, Shawn. You know my breathing is delicate as it is."

"Okay, fine. I won't call him that to his face this time."

"This time?" Gus repeated, his eyes growing wide. "You don't mean—"

"He's the primary suspect in a felony, Gus. We have to question him!"

Gus took a step back, shaking his head emphatically.

"No way, Shawn! No way! Uh-uh! I am not walking up to Jimmy Banks and accusing him of taking your bike! I don't care if he's sitting on it at the time! There is no way!"

"Come on! It'll be like Miami Vice! You can be Philip Michael Thomas!"

"Why do I always have to be black guy?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No! I'm always the side-kick Black Guy. I wanna be the star this time! You know Don Johnson is cooler. I'm not going if I can't be Don Johnson."

He sat on the ground, folding his arms and sticking his nose in the air stubbornly.

"Fine. You can be Don Johnson," Shawn conceded, rolling his eyes.

"For real?"

"For real."

Gus nodded firmly.

"You know that's right."

He stood up again and dusted off his jeans.

"But I get to be the Bad Cop," Shawn added.


	3. Chapter 3

Jimmy Banks was easy enough to find. He spent every Saturday hanging out in front of Martin's Drugstore with his lackeys.

Shawn and Gus stood across the street, watching him laugh and chew on candy cigarettes.

"I don't see your bike," Gus whispered pleadingly. "Let's just go home."

"No!" Shawn hissed back. "He probably sold it to a chop shop. I bet it's in pieces on its way to Mexico by now. That's how it works, you know."

"How what works?"

"The bike black market!"

"What bike black market?"

"The one that chopped up my bike and sold it to Mexico. Aren't you listening?"

Shawn waved his hand dismissively at Gus, and then inhaled deeply, gathering his courage. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped off the curb towards Jimmy. Gus grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Are you crazy? You're going to walk up to Jimmy Banks and tell him you think he sold your bike to Mexico?"

"Why not?"

"Because he'll cream you!"

"No, he won't."

"Shawn, the guy's twelve years old and he has facial hair. FACIAL HAIR! I'm telling you, he'll clobber you."

"Hmmm….maybe you're right. We need a plan."

"That's better."

An evil grin that made Gus' blood run cold stretched across Shawn's face.

"Okay. I got one."

He shook the hand off his shoulder and once again crossed the street.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" Gus called after him, but Shawn was already out of ear shot. Gus huffed, jogging to catch up.

By the time he reached his side, Shawn was already approaching Jimmy.

"Hey Jimmy!" He yelled, stomping up to him as boldly as he could.

Jimmy turned around slowly, looking Shawn up and down with disgust. He scratched the stubble on his chin lazily.

"What do you want, Spencer?" He sneered.

He really does look like a rat, Gus thought to himself.

Suddenly, Shawn took a step back, and Gus found himself face to face with pre-teen Godzilla.

"Gus thinks you stole my bike!" Shawn announced, pointing accusingly.

"Does he?"

Jimmy slowly cracked his knuckles, one finger at a time. Gus flinched with each sickening crack.

"I—I didn't say that!" He stammered, watching those huge, flexing fists.

"Oh, Gus. Don't take it back now! You were just telling me your whole theory about how Rat-Face here stole my bike right out of my front yard. You mentioned something about the Mexican black market."

"I did not, Shawn! I didn't say that, Jimmy! Really!"

But it was too late. Jimmy was looming over Gus now, heaving sugary, musky breaths in his face.

"Did you say that, Guster?" He demanded quietly.

"No! Honest! I've never even heard of the Mexican black market!"

"Gus, you silly Panda Pants. You even found the clue!"

Shawn produced the Snickers wrapper. He tossed it on the ground at Jimmy's feet.

"You see, Jimmy, Gus was smart enough to notice that this wrapper was snipped open. He pointed out that you're the only person who opens candy like that. He's like Nero Wolfe, except without the weight-management issues. Anyway, this proves that you were in my yard today."

Jimmy peered at Gus, then back at Shawn, then at the wrapper. He picked it up and examined it thoughtfully.

"Did you really say all that, Guster?"

"No!"

"He's so modest," Shawn gushed.

"Just pound 'em both, Jimmy," one of the lackeys spoke up.

"Shut up," Jimmy spat. He put an affectionate arm around Gus' shoulder. Gus clenched his eyes shut, certain that death was only a few moments away.

If Jimmy kills me, he thought, I am so coming back and haunting Shawn!

But death didn't come.

Gus cautiously opened one eye.

"This is a smart kid," Jimmy was saying. "He figured all that out from a candy wrapper! You jerks couldn't do that."

He turned back to Gus.

"Okay, Guster. You got me. I was in Spencer's yard today. I was gonna slash his tires. You know, for fun. But I couldn't do it because some old lady with white hair and a knit cap walked by and saw me. I had to split before I could touch the bike."

"An old lady with a knit cap and white hair?" Shawn repeated. "Mother Goose stole my bike?"

Jimmy shrugged.

"I dunno, but I'd check with her. She must've seen something, because your bike was still there when I took off. I think she lives on your street."

"That sounds like Mrs. Henderson," Gus said quietly.

"You know, Spencer. You really should lock your bike up," Jimmy added. "Then things like this wouldn't happen."

"Yeah, so I've been told."

Shawn turned and began to walk away. Gus followed quickly.

"What the heck is wrong with you, Shawn?! You almost got me killed!" He seethed once they turned the corner, out of Jimmy's sight.

"You wanted to be Don Johnson," Shawn replied simply.


	4. Chapter 4

"That's where Mrs. Henderson lives," Gus said, pointing to the large white house on the corner.

"The crazy cat lady?" Shawn gasped. "That's Mrs. Henderson?"

"She doesn't own any cats, Shawn."

"Oh. I assumed…"

"And she's not crazy."

"She was walking around wearing a knit cap in broad daylight, Gus. That doesn't exactly scream sanity," Shawn retorted.

Gus glared.

"If you're going to be mean to her…"

"I won't. I won't. I'll be good. I promise."

Gus eyed Shawn warily. He'd been burned one time too many to trust that innocent smile.

"I mean it, Shawn. Mrs. Henderson is really nice. She babysat me sometimes when my parents were at work."

"I'm sure she's wonderful. Mary Poppins with Coffee Nips."

"Don't you dare be all…Shawn-y….to her."

"You don't want me to be cool and witty?"

"I don't want you to be a jerk."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that. Just knock on the door and ask her if she saw someone take my bike."

"Fine. You stay here."

"You really don't trust me, do you?"

"Not even a little bit. Stay."

Gus left Shawn on the sidewalk and marched up the path to Mrs. Henderson's house. He hesitated for a moment before knocking.

It took Mrs. Henderson a few minutes to come to the door. Those few minutes were enough, however, for Gus to form an evil plan of his own.

"Gus!" Mrs. Henderson beamed when she finally answered the door. "I haven't seen you in a long time! How are you?"

"Fine, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm okay. The hearing's not what it used to be…but you know how that is."

_How would I know?_ Gus thought to himself. _I'm twelve._

"Uh-huh."

"Did you need something, Gus? Did your Frisbee go on my roof again?"

"No, ma'am…umm…it's about my friend. Shawn Spencer. See him over there?"

Mrs. Henderson peered out the door, squinting into the sun.

"I think so. The cataracts…"

"Well, the thing is, he has to do a report for school about what it was like to live in the United States during WWII. He was hoping you would be able to tell him all about life back then."

"Really?" Mrs. Henderson sounded touched.

"Oh, yeah. He's too shy to ask you himself, but he was hoping you could tell him all your stories. He said that, too. He wants to hear ALL your stories. Every single one."

"Aww, he sounds like a sweet boy."

"Oh, that's Shawn."

Gus couldn't help grinning.

"Did you have time this afternoon?" Gus asked.

"Of course! You two come right on in. I'll fix you some tea."

"I would love to stay, Mrs. Henderson. But I have a dentist appointment. Shawn will be thrilled, though. I'll go get him."

Gus started to walk back up the path.

"Oh," he turned back. "You don't happen to have any Coffee Nips, do you? Shawn loves Coffee Nips."

"Of course I do!"

"Great!"

Gus ran back to Shawn.

"Great news, Shawn! She knows where your bike is!"

"Really? Where?"

"She won't tell me. She said she can't be sure it's really yours. You'll have to go talk to her."

"Okay," Shawn shrugged.

Gus watched in satisfaction as he went into the house, unknowingly facing hours of endless, rambling stories.

"Don't tell me I'm not Don Johnson," Gus snorted.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a full two hours before Shawn could break away from Mrs. Henderson and hunt Gus down.

He was back at the tree house, reading his stupid comics. He grinned wickedly as Shawn entered.

"Mrs. Henderson didn't know anything," Shawn growled.

"Of course not. She 80, mostly deaf, and has cataracts. Even if she saw something, she wouldn't know it."

"You could have mentioned that before."

"Yes. Yes, I could have."

"You're so dead!"

"You deserved it."

Gus tossed him a comic. Shawn collapsed to the floor and flipped it open brusquely, still sulking. After a minute, he slugged Gus in the arm.

"Ow!"

Then it was over. They were best friends again.

They continued to read in amicable silence until Henry's voice pierced the quiet afternoon.

"Shawn! Shawn!"

Shawn stuck his head out the door.

"What?"

Henry was dressed in his uniform, strapping his gun and holster to his belt.

"What are you doing up there? I thought you were looking for your bike."

"I'm…taking a break."

"I see. Any leads yet?"

Shawn hesitated.

"Ummm…yeah. Tons. Dozens."

Henry nodded approvingly.

"Good. Glad to hear it. Look, I just got a call about a robbery. I have to go in for a while, okay?"

"Okay."

"So don't leave the neighborhood, be in the house before dark…and for God's sake, try not to get Gus killed. I'll be home later. And then I want to hear all about The Case of the Missing Bike."

"'K. Right…it'll definitely be cracked by then. Way cracked. Like an egg."

"Oh, I'm sure," Henry shook his head amusedly and waved as he walked away.

Gus sighed and closed his comic book.

"We're back on the case, aren't we?"

"I don't think I have a choice," Shawn groaned. "You heard him. He wants to hear about it."

"You could've told him the truth. That you're stuck."

"Yeah, because the truth always goes over so well with him. Remember the fishing pole incident?"

"Okay, so that time you should've lied. But this is different!"

"No, Gus. If I don't figure this out, I'll never hear the end of it. And I mean never."

"He does have a memory like an elephant," Gus agreed, standing up.

"And a sense of humor like a rhino."

Gus was already out the door and climbing down the ladder. Shawn was right behind.

"Where to first?" Gus asked.

"I guess we should go back and talk to Jimmy. Maybe he knows more than he's telling."

Gus hopped to the ground, whimpering.

"Not again, Shawn! Come on! Your dad said not to get me killed!"

"_Try_, Gus." Shawn corrected lightly. "He said _try_ not to get you killed."


	6. Chapter 6

"Stop kicking, Gus!" Shawn grunted, pulling Gus' legs, but to no avail.

He was stuck tight.

"Shawn! Get me out of here! I'm going to kill you!" Gus' muffled voice threatened.

"Then why would I get you—"

Gus flailed even harder, striking Shawn in the chest with his Kangaroo sneakers.

"SHAWN!"

"Okay, okay. I'm trying! Stop kicking!"

Shawn continued to tug and pull until Gus finally managed to wriggle free. He fell to the ground, gasping and covered with soot and grime.

"Okay," Shawn said breezily, wiping his hands on his jeans. "So we learned that you really can't use the air ducts to sneak around inside a building. Who knew?"

"I did, Shawn," Gus snapped, rubbing his arm. "If you recall, I told you that, but you wouldn't listen!"

"I guess I didn't hear you."

"Oh, you heard me. You said, 'Oh, no, Gus! I saw it in on TV! They couldn't put it on TV if it wasn't true!'"

"First of all, my voice is nowhere near that high-pitched. And, secondly, I'm devastated to learn they put things on TV that aren't true! Honestly, Gus! My world is collapsing! What next? I'll find out the Transformers don't even do their own stunts?"

"They're animated, Shawn."

"So?"

"Never mind."

Shawn sighed and stared up at the large apartment building in front of them.

"Well, we still have to find a way to get in there."

"You don't even know for sure Jimmy's at home," Gus pointed out.

"Where else would he be? He's not at the drug store. He's got to be at his apartment. We just need a plan to get past the doorman…"

"Did it even occur to you to just ask him if he'll let us in?"

"Gus, you Silly Bean Bag Chair. It's the doorman's entire job to keep people who don't live here out. People like us. There's no way he'll let us just walk right up there. That's his reason for existence!"

"But you didn't even ask him!"

"Shhh, Gus! Let me think…"

Gus didn't wait to hear the rest. He was tired, dirty, and now in pain from the stupid vents. He wasn't going to wait for Shawn to invent some hair-brained, unconvincing cover story that required him to have a weird, obscure name. Not this time.

He pushed past Shawn and strolled up to the doorman; a tall, somewhat intimidating figure.

"Umm…excuse me…Sir…" Gus began, doing his best to look lost and vaguely frightened.

"What?"

"Me and my friend are here to play with Jimmy Banks. Is he at home?"

"Yeah, sure," he shrugged, holding the door open for them. "Go on up. Apartment 7G."

"Thanks."

Shawn just jammed his hands in his pockets and scowled as he and Gus walked to the elevator.

Gus tried not to gloat too much as he pressed the button.

But he couldn't help gloating just a little.

After twelve years of being Shawn's best friend, he had earned it.

They stepped off and began to hunt for apartment 7G.

"What exactly are you going to say?" Gus wanted to know.

"Do I ever think that far ahead?"

"No."

"Then why mess with the system? Trust the system, Gus. The system works."

They arrived at the door. Shawn raised his hand to knock, but Gus grabbed it before he could.

"Hold it, Shawn."

"What?"

"So far today, your 'system' has made me lie to a doorman, get stuck in a vent, and almost got me beat up. I've had enough! Before you knock on that door, I want to hear a plan. I want to know that you're not going to get me killed. School pictures are on Monday, and my Mom bought me a new suit."

"A plan? What's wrong with just saying, 'Jimmy, you lying scum!...?"

"'Lying scum'? Why don't you just say, 'please beat the crap out of Gus, Jimmy.'"

"Would that work?"

Gus considered for a moment, but before he could respond a voice from inside the apartment broke the silence.

"I'm sorry! I couldn't get one."

Shawn quickly pressed his ear to the door.

"It's Jimmy!" He whispered.

"Who's he talking to?" Gus whispered back.

"I don't know. I think he's on the phone. I only hear one voice."

"I tried! I swear!..." the voice continued. "No….no….it's not my fault!... Aww, come on!"

"What's he talking about?" Gus wondered aloud, more to himself than anyone else.

"It's about my bike!" Shawn gasped. "I was right! He _is_ involved in the Mexican black market!"

"There's no black market for bikes!" Gus almost screamed, finally at the end of his rope.

"Shh!" Shawn hissed. Gus quickly clapped his hand over his mouth.

"Sorry," he apologized through his fingers.

"I don't think he heard you. But shut up!"

Shawn sidled up to the door again, but the voice was gone.

"He hung up."

"Well, what's he doing now?"

"I don't know. I can't hear anything. Wait…he's walking…I can hear his steps getting further away…definitely further away…"

Suddenly, the door opened and Shawn went sprawling head-first into Jimmy's apartment.

"Spencer?!" Jimmy yelped, jumping back. "What the heck?"

Shawn jumped up, trying to look as cool and casual as possible.

"Well, this door seems to be in order…" he ad-libbed. "And…umm, the floor is fine, too…"

"What are you doing here?" 

Shawn glanced pleadingly at Gus.

"Don't even look at me," Gus snorted, folding his arms. "You're on your own."

"Uh—"

"Never mind," Jimmy shoved Shawn out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

"But I have a good one!"

"Look, Spencer…as much as I want to beat the crap out of you right now, I don't have time, okay?"

"Yeah. Those candy cigarettes won't pretend to smoke themselves."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Jimmy glared and seemed to consider being late. But then he checked his watch.

"Beat it, Spencer."

He took off, not even looking behind him.

"He was in a hurry," Gus commented, again more to himself than anyone else.

"In such a hurry he wouldn't even punch me! Who doesn't have time to punch me?"

"I'd make the time."

"Exactly! He's up to something! Let's follow him!"

"You won't be happy until he beats you up, will you?"

"No one ignores Shawn Spencer!"

Shawn ran back to the elevator and pressed the button.


End file.
